Say You'll Remember Me

by Katie McGarry

  “The whole birthday thing doesn’t bother me. We’ll celebrate when you return.” And because it’s my dad and we’re close, I choose honesty. “As for being alone, I don’t feel comfortable staying with anyone right now. I trust my friends, but I’m not sure I can trust the other people in their house. Plus, I’m still tired and I don’t want to host. I want quiet.”

  Dad nods. “Being in the public eye is a tough life. Rest up. We’ve got big events when we return, and I need you at a hundred percent.”

  “Will do.”

  “When we get back, you name whatever it is you want to do for your birthday and it’s yours. I’ll have Sean schedule the time off. I love you.”

  “Love you back.”

  Dad winks and then he’s gone. I have the best dad ever. I truly do. I turn off the video chat, open Sean’s email on my laptop and scroll through the events. Most of them I knew about, but my level of presence and activities at the events have increased which gives me an awesome thrill. I’m needed, what I’m saying is making an impact, and that’s amazingly cool.

  Speaking at the Daughters of the American Revolution—check.

  Attend the Louisville Bats Game—check.

  My head tilts to the side as I read the overview of events at the game. Elle will be in attendance with Andrew. Elle and Andrew are scheduled to appear on the Kiss Cam.

  I’m sorry? I’m going to do what? Actually, no, I’m not. No. Way. In. Hell.

  My cell is in my hands, and there’s one ring for video chat, then there’s another. I’m so angry my fingers shake, and if Dad doesn’t answer soon I’ll have no choice but to get in my car, drive all the way to DC and scream very loudly for a very, very long time.

  The call is accepted, I inhale deeply, so I’ll have plenty of air for my raging rant, and I’m dumbfounded into silence when Sean appears. “Calm down, Elle. It’s not as bad as you think.”

  “You want me to kiss Andrew. Yes, it’s exactly as bad as I think.”

  “A friendly peck. That’s it. Seconds of your life.”

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “Your father was already running late because he was listening in on the phone call with you and your mother, and then he talked to you privately. He’s busy.”

  “Then I’ll talk to him later.” I go to hang up.

  “If you do everything I ask of you from here until the election, I’ll not only convince your dad to let you take the coding classes, but I’ll convince him to let you apply for the internship.”

  I blink because I’m confused why he knows about this.

  “Once your dad wins, they plan on moving to DC—you included. But if you do all that we ask, with no attitude, I’ll lean on your dad to let you and your mom stay in Kentucky until you graduate from high school.”

  A rush of air out of my mouth because I hadn’t fully realized what winning would mean. Dad and Mom would move, and they’d want me to move with them.

  “Plus, your mom and dad have seen the schedule and have approved it. They know about the Kiss Cam and you know how protective they are of you. They see this for what it is—nothing big. This is you overreacting and letting your emotions run away with you. A quick kiss on the cheek, that’s it. Something playful. The crowd will think it’s fun and cute.”

  Maybe I’m still sick because I’m overwhelmed with the need to vomit again. I don’t know how to, nor do I want to, explain to Sean why this is big for me. I’ve never been kissed. “Why can’t Mom and Dad kiss?”

  “People want young.”

  “Then make someone else kiss.”

  “When are you going to understand? Drix is winning the minds of the state by proving your father has ideas and programs that work. But you, Elle, are winning their hearts.”

  I open my mouth to offer another better alternative, but Sean cuts me off. “Are you in or out? I need to know now. You will have a strong media presence at the game. It’s assumed you’ll take part in a tradition. It’s insulting if you don’t, and people will notice. Plus it’s already on the schedule. If we have to call and tell them it’s not happening, that will be the bigger news story. Are you going to throw me attitude, or are you going to do exactly what I need you to do?”

  My lips turn down as pure sadness drowns me from the inside out. “Fine.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate how mature you’ve been. As I said—”

  I hang up on Sean. I may be making the “mature” decision, but no one ever said I had to be “mature” with him. I close my eyes and take a breath in and a breath out. I will not cry over this. I will not cry over Andrew. I will not cry over Sean. I will not cry over any of this.

  My cell rings. No doubt Sean attempting to reconnect, and I deny his request. Seconds later, he tries again, and I deny his request again. Each and every denial my silent expression of how much I hate him. Sean calls again, and I hang up on him again. I can do this all night. After the fourth time, he gives up.

  I told Dad I wanted time alone, but the silence in the house I found comfort in before has disappeared. It’s now deafening, and it causes me to feel hollow.

  I open my texts. Maybe Mom and Dad are right. Maybe I should invite a friend over. I scroll through my messages, thinking of who would be the least dramatic. Who will be willing to watch movies and go to bed before midnight.

  Names roll through the screen, and then my brain has a hiccup. I scroll back and my heart stalls. It’s Drix and he texted me yesterday. An hour between two texts.

  Drix: I heard you were sick and I want to make sure you’re okay.

  Drix: Maybe this will help. He likes hanging at my home.

  I put my hand over my mouth as my heart explodes. There’s a picture of the cutest ball of fur on the planet. It’s Thor.

  Oh my God, Drix kept Thor.

  Hendrix

  My sister is baking.

  I can’t find my cell.

  I’m a broken and live wire.

  Touch me, push me too far, and I’m going to explode.

  On the counter are two sheet cakes my sister made from box mixes. She’s frosting one and instructing Marcus how to frost the other. She’s been at these cakes for most of the afternoon, and she hums to herself or sings along with the radio in that cool demeanor of hers as if two big sheet cakes in this small house is normal. Holiday’s up to something, and it’s slowly driving me insane.

  “Where is my phone, Holiday?” She was the last one to have it. My cell has internet, hers just makes emergency calls.

  “I gave it back to you. I can’t help it you’re forgetful.”

  If I lose this cell, I’m screwed. If Holiday’s up to something, I’m screwed regardless. Maybe I should move to Montana. There aren’t many people in Montana. There, I could be happy.

  Thor weaves through my legs, then runs around me in circles. He’s my shadow, following me everywhere I go, and I take him with me whenever I can. Currently, he longs for a walk. It’s reaching late afternoon, that’s what he and I do—walk for over an hour down by the creek. I’d like to take him out, but I need to find my cell first.

  I open drawers in the kitchen and search them in the faint hope I set the cell on the counter, and it fell into one of the drawers. Forks, spoons, knives, various other utensils clank and bang together and then the pounding of wood against wood when I slam the drawer shut.

  Holiday glances at me from out of her eye and then immediately focuses on frosting the cake. She begins to sing an old Beatles tune that’s a favorite of mine, and Marcus joins in. They sound good together, complementing the other. Holiday has a soulful voice. Rough, edgy and smooth all at the same time. I used to love listening to her sing, used to love playing the beat for her when she sang. Right now, I’m not caring about her voice. I want my cell. “Where is it?”


  Thor swings his gaze between me and Holiday. Because he’s a good dog, he sits on my foot, then barks at her. Get her, boy, then while you’re at it, fetch my cell.

  She bats her eyelashes, pretending she has no idea what I’m referring to. “Have you checked your room? Maybe it fell out of your pocket up there?”

  I’ve checked my room. Four times. I’ve checked every pocket of pants I own and every other pair that are not on people’s bodies. “That phone is part of my probation. They call, I answer. That’s how it works, and right now, I can’t answer because I don’t have it. The last person who had my phone was you, so where is it?”

  I know Holiday is the one responsible, I can feel it deep in my gut, but still I search. In case I’m wrong, hoping I’ll find where she’s stashed it.

  My sister does what she’s done all day—shrugs one shoulder like that’s an answer, and the level of crazy she’s driving me to is undefinable. Skin peeling off my muscle, muscles crawling along my bones, in the way that only younger siblings can push older siblings out of their minds.

  The back screen door opens, and Dominic pokes his head in. “Here.”

  A knife full of frosting drops from Holiday’s hand as she spins, and it hits the counter. Her eyes go wide. “No, that can’t be. The cakes aren’t done.”

  Dominic’s eyebrows rise. “Not my problem.”

  “But I have a plan and this is not part of the plan.”

  Dominic does a slow side eye to me, then studies my sister. “You’ve got to learn how go with the flow.”

  Sinking feeling along with the annoyance that they act like I don’t exist. “What are the cakes for?”

  Holiday flashes a smile at me. “One is for your birthday.”

  “I had a birthday. Six months ago.” In juvenile detention.

  Marcus turns with a can of frosting in one hand and a spoon full of frosting in the other. My mind is tripping over itself because a six-three stack of muscle with a tat on his right arm is baking, and he looks damn happy doing it. “You didn’t tell me you had a birthday.”

  “Everyone has birthdays.”

  “You should have told me you had one in detention.”

  This entire house has gone insane. “And what were we going to do about it?”

  He grins and it’s almost contagious. “Sing, man. We would have sung.”

  Because that’s what I would have needed. An entire cell block singing to me on my birthday.

  “Well,” Holiday says, “we’re celebrating your half birthday, so suck it up.”

  Tension in my neck and I roll it. “I don’t want another party.”

  “I don’t want another party,” she mimics in a low voice. “You know, you can do fun. That’s not against the law. Anyhow, today is officially your half birthday, so we’re celebrating because I like cake, and I was robbed of cake this past year when you weren’t here.”

  “What’s the other cake for, and what are you and Dominic talking in code about?”

  Holiday sighs, then levels a hard stare at Dominic. “For real? Here?”

  “Here. Axle’s thirty seconds away from flipping cars. By the way, I told him it was your idea.”

  Her lips curl into a snarl. “Coward.”

  “Sticks and stones, sweetheart.” Dominic fishes my cell out of his back pocket and tosses it to me. I consider taking a chair and breaking it against the floor just to make myself feel better.

  “Why do you have my phone?”

  “Did.”

  “What?”

  “You said do. I don’t have it anymore. You do, so now it’s a did.”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “Ellison Monroe is out front talking to Axle. You better get out there. Axle’s going to excuse himself to murder Holiday, and I don’t think leaving a rich politician’s daughter to fend for herself in your front yard is smart. The girl is pretty, but I’m not getting a street-educated vibe.”

  “It was your idea, too,” Holiday sings as she returns to icing cakes.

  I’m caught between that fogginess that happens when someone clocks you in the head and the overwhelming instinctual need to protect Elle. My feet are moving, so the latter wins. I hit the screen door with enough force that it bangs against the siding. I round the house, and I can’t decide if this is a nightmare or the best dream.

  Standing in my front yard, chatting with my older brother is the most beautiful girl in the world. Khaki skirt that’s showing off some mouthwatering thighs, a fitted blue top that appears tailored to each and every gorgeous curve, her long hair pulled into a high ponytail with loose curls, and I’ll be damned if she’s wearing those sexy glasses which means the color of her eyes are the real deal.

  It’s Elle.

  Dominic catches up to me, and he talks low and fast. “Four texts from your account. That’s it. Holiday wrote them, I approved them before she pushed Send. We said something about Elle being sick and wanting to know if she was okay. We texted her a picture of Thor. We waited, and we wouldn’t have sent another text if she didn’t reply. But she did. Holiday knew it was her birthday and asked if she had plans. She didn’t, so Holiday invited her here.”

  It’s Elle’s birthday. She’s spending it alone. I had no idea.

  “Her family isn’t in town, brother, and she said yes. I heard what you had to say the other night, saw the look on your face when you talked about her. You like this girl.”

  I lean into him. “I walked because I don’t trust myself. I can’t screw up again.”

  Dominic places a hand on my arm, and it’s a strong grip. “You won’t. I told you, you’re better than you were before, and if for some reason you do start to backtrack, I’ve got your back. I didn’t before, but I do now. It’s not enough for your body to be back home. I want your soul back, and the only time I saw a glimmer of that was when you talked about this girl.”

  “This was not your call to make.”

  “It wasn’t, but she’s here, and you’ve got a choice. Send her away and be the asshole that forced her to spend her birthday alone, or we order some pizzas, get some chicken wings and eat cake. Your choice.”

  Elle’s gaze travels over my brother’s shoulders, and when she spots me, she brightens. Not the expression I’ve seen on TV. The real one. The one I’m starting to believe might only belong to me. I’d give up years of my life if that were true. That somehow I’m deserving enough to be the guy who’s worthy of her smile.

  “Which one is it?” Dominic asks. “What type of man are you going to be?”

  The right decision would be to send her home, hurt her feelings, cut open myself and bleed and make sure I don’t piss off the governor and return to jail...or...spend Elle’s birthday with her, soak up that smile, bask in her laughter, live for a few hours without the constant knots in my chest because only Elle has the key to unravel the chains that keep me locked up in my past sins.

  Number two is selfish, number two is what she’s chosen, but what type of guy am I if pick number two?

  Follow directions, not follow directions.

  Pick my own path or start my own?

  Hurt her, hurt me, or maybe be seventeen, if only for a few minutes.

  What type of man am I going to be?

  That’s the question. That’s always the question...

  Ellison

  “Does your father know you’re here?” Axle’s question causes me to rip my eyes off Drix and back onto his older brother. For the brief few minutes since I’ve arrived, Axle and I have exchanged pleasantries.

  Hi, I’m Ellison.

  I know. His “I know” the equivalent to “Go home.” I’m Axle, Drix’s older brother.

  Drix has mentioned you before. He has a lot of wonderful things to say about you.

  Drix has talked about you some, as well. Axle went out of his
way to make sure he didn’t mirror my “and he said something nice about you.”

  Is Drix here? Like I was six and knocking on a door for a playdate.

  And that’s when Drix appeared, and my heart did a bit of a tap dance, but then that one question sent me crashing back into sick reality. Does your father know you’re here?

  I see so much of Drix in Axle—the dark eyes, and I can spot the same blondish-brown even though he wears his hair shaved close to his scalp. But Drix doesn’t have tattoos, and Axle’s arms are covered in them, and he has small hoops in his earlobes.

  At the beginning of the summer, being nearly alone with this man in a neighborhood that has a high crime reputation would have frightened me, but I have a hard time finding that fear. Drix is nearby, plus this is Drix’s beloved older brother. I may not be wanted, but I’m safe.

  Protective. That’s what I overheard Cynthia call Axle, and I agree with her assessment. “My parents don’t know I’m here. I was invited and I accepted. If the invitation is no longer valid, I can leave.”

  Axle scans me from head to toe. Not at all in a perverted way that’s been done to me by too many filthy men over the last several weeks, but he is taking in my wealth. The bracelets on my wrist, clothing on my body, sandals on my feet, then his eyes drift to the street.

  “Nice car.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You leave it parked there, and it’ll be jacked in about fifteen minutes.”

  The familiar anger creeps out from those doors I can’t seem to keep locked, and I lift my chin. “If you’d like me to leave, it would be polite to say it instead of inferring your passive-aggressive feelings.”

  His eyebrows rise in this weird shocked motion, and I remain persistent in eye contact. I don’t do passive-aggressive.

  “Is there a problem here?” Drix’s low voice is like a rumble of thunder. “Because from a distance, it appears like you’re pissing off my guest.”

  Axle’s head falls back, then he angles his body to make me, him and Drix a neat little triangle. “Her parents don’t know she’s here. Do you think that’s a wise choice on your part?”